


Thirst

by Apparentlynotreallyfinnish



Series: Prompted ficlets [25]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Fantasizing, Formalwear, M/M, Pining, Thirsting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 06:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20719319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish/pseuds/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish
Summary: Part of a series of prompted ficlets. Prompt:"Link being reallll overwhelmed by Rhett’s over all manliness and sex appeal at theAudi Emmy’s party."





	Thirst

_It’s the hair. It has to be the hair._

Link stares at Rhett while he talks with the photographer. Rhett is bent down a bit, like he tends to do, and looks to be very involved with whatever they are discussing. His curls defy gravity; they inch towards the sky shepherded by the Mythical pomade but also something more divine as even the pomade can’t work miracles like that. Link’s hand itches from the need to touch the hair; to run his fingers through the curls; to feel the new length; to confirm the presence of magic.

_It could be the suit too._

It’s tan and perfectly fitted. The color matches Rhett’s hair, and the blue-gray shirt underneath brings out his eyes. Rhett has left a few top buttons open; maybe as a gesture of his newfound I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. A patch of his chest hair is showing and – although Link has seen all of it and more – that little taste of what’s under that shirt is making Link’s cock twitch in his impeccably tailored pants. 

“Link! Are you even listening to me?” Stevie’s voice penetrates the haze that has inhabited Link’s mind ever since he laid eyes on Rhett in his party get-up.

“No,” Link answers absentmindedly and barely sees Stevie’s very impressive eye roll.

_It might be the beard._

Link keeps teasing Rhett about it. He keeps calling it a tangled mess and a ragged eyesore. All of this has been said with a teasing smile. Rhett certainly knows Link doesn’t mean it. But Rhett doesn’t know how the beard actually makes Link feel.

The beard makes him feel small; makes him feel weak in the best possible way. The beard makes Link feel a tight heat in the pit of his stomach. It refuses to simmer. As the beard grows, so grows the all-consuming fire inside Link. 

Link dreams of Rhett burying his face between Link’s legs. Link dreams of the beard getting drenched in saliva and precum. Link dreams of the beard roughing up the soft insides of his thighs and the cleft of his perked up ass. The lewd thought sends shivers running down Link’s spine.

Stevie follows Link’s gaze and a knowing smile spreads on her face.

“He looks good tonight,” she says innocently. Link licks his lips and nods.

“I like the suit. _Suits_ him,” Stevie continues. Link keeps nodding and hums affirmatively. He can’t form a proper reply. He can’t, because his brain is otherwise occupied. Rhett has taken his pose and the photographer is praising him for his smoldering gaze – a gaze that sails past the camera and pierces Link.

His knees almost give out.

“Perfect! Thank you,” the photographer says and Rhett shakes his hands, exchanges a few words before walking up to Link and Stevie.

“Drinks then?” he says and walks past them heading towards the bar. Link follows him like a shadow, clings to his heels, and marvels the way he struts like he owns the place. And he does. He walks tall; not hunching one bit to appear smaller. Not tonight. 

_It must be the hair, the suit, the beard._

Rhett’s a man tonight; a man with a capital M. Unapologetically masculine in his step and in his stance. But not masculine in a threatening way; he’s a protector, a provider… a lover. Every inch of him screams _I am here, look at me_! And people do. Eyes all around them turn towards Rhett and linger. Link feels an angry mix of pride and jealousy. After all, Rhett is his in a way. They come as a set. Always together. Always touching.

_Touching…_

Rhett orders a drink with a confident wave of his hand and Link stares at his fingers; imagines them touching him. 

Rhett’s fingers caressing Link’s sides. Rhett’s fingers at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Rhett’s fingers gripping on Link’s hips with bruising intensity. Rhett’s fingers inside Link, dexterously demanding Link to relax into the feeling of being filled by him.

A glass is placed in front of Link - the contents of which he is not certain. Nevertheless, he takes the offered drink with trembling hands and turns to look at Rhett. He’s so close to caving, to saying all the things that are crowding his brain.

_Take me. Have me. Love me. Fuck me._

But then Rhett turns away to talk to someone who calls his name and Link curses his cowardice and downs his drink tasting the sting.

The night goes on. There’s music and laughter. There are conversations to hold and questions to answer. As the clock ticks towards midnight Link grows more and more restless. He stares at Rhett and wrings his hands, rubs his fingers together and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He cards his fingers through his own hair over and over again.

He can’t stop because if he does, his hands will go to Rhett. They will go and yank that shirt from his pants. They will feel that soft fluff on his belly and chest. They will slip back down and unbuckle that belt and…

“You okay, man?” Rhett’s voice is smooth and near. Link jumps. He hadn’t realized that Rhett had moved; that he’s now crowding Link’s space looking concerned.

“What?”

“You keep fidgeting. Are you okay?” Rhett repeats. Link nods too quickly, smiles too widely, laughs too loudly. Rhett’s eyebrow shoots up and Link knows he’s busted. 

Link’s movements pause. He stills only for a second, but that’s a lifetime more than he needs. Something flips inside him.

Link’s hand shoots up and he sees, as if slow motion, his fingers threading through Rhett’s curls, messing up his perfectly coiffed up-do. Link feels like apologizing so he does.

“M’sorry,” he stammers, suddenly horrified. His hand is still in Rhett’s hair. 

There’s people around them. People looking. People whispering. Link doesn’t see them. He just sees Rhett; he just sees the color of his eyes and the strange glint in them. He just sees the rising storm in them; dark green and gray and overwhelming and imminent.

“It’s okay. Why are you messing up my hair?” Rhett says, his voice strangely thick and warbled, like he’s speaking from behind a glass.

“I can fix it,” Link hears himself saying. “After.”

“After?” Rhett asks, eyebrow creeping up again.

Link nods and swallows. Rhett’s eyes follow the bob of his goozle and he licks his lips. The tip of Rhett’s tongue pokes out only barely but it still manages to make Link’s stomach coil with blistering heat. He finally pulls his hand away from Rhett’s hair.

_It’s definitely the hair._

Link’s hand feels empty now, so he fills it with Rhett’s palm. It feels right. Rhett’s gaze flits to their intertwining fingers but he doesn’t let go. He looks at Link’s face again. The tumult in his eyes makes Link shiver. The air between them crackles. The room is empty; the world is silent; no one else exists.

“After what Link?” Rhett repeats and it sounds like a challenge.

“After you’ve wrecked me,” Link says breathlessly. His vision blurs. He waits for Rhett to react.

Rhett’s eyes flash and he nods. Link’s heart slams against his chest. He turns and heads for the doors. Rhett silently follows as Link pulls him out of the venue. 

Link’s heart is beating out of his chest. His head thrums with his heart and his step is springy and light. Tonight he’s finally brave.

_It’s all of him. And now he’s gonna be mine._


End file.
